The report card
by valkrys
Summary: Oneshot. 12 and 17 year old Sam and Dean are home alone while John is on a hunt.


Discl.: I don't own anything related to Supernatural or Jensen and Jared or Jeff. Dammit!

A/N: My first ever Supernatural fic and I hope my writing improves for the next ones. Thanks a bunch to loracj2 and emrose33 for their fabulous beta and encouraging work!

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* * *

The report card**

The look on twelve-year old Sammy's face when he returned from the library where he had spent the entire afternoon was even more thoughtful than his usual calm expression when he was pondering a specific matter.

Silently he got rid of his jacket and placed the school bag next to his bed, before reaching for a paper which he wordlessly handed over to Dean.

Taking a look at the document, a cocky grin appeared on the older boy's face and he teased:

"Jesus, Sammy, it's surprising you even know all the letters of the alphabet with the boring same A grades you get for your tests."

"It's Sam" was the slow reply, accompanied by a half annoyed glare towards his big brother.

Knowing the routine, Dean went over to the small table in what was supposed to be the kitchen of the bungalow they were living, and signed the successful test with the perfect imitation of their Dad's signature.

After handing it back to the boy, Dean asked,

"What do you want for dinner? I can offer scrambled eggs, scrambled eggs with bread and…" searching his pockets for the remains of the money John had given him before he had left, he continued with a half grin, "unfortunately scrambled eggs with cheeseburgers are not on the menu today."

"When will Dad be back?"

Dean tensed at the words of his little brother, his voice soft but with a hint of desperation, which Dean hadn't heard from him for a long time.

Searching the young boy's face for any kind of emotions appeared to be useless, as the teen was once again unreadable, so Dean continued in his normal big brother mode.

"Don't worry, princess, he's fine. I don't know how you manage to get all these A's with your goldfish memory, though. Remember his phone call yesterday? The hunt takes longer than expected, but he will be back as soon as the witch is finished."

A deep sigh escaped Sam's lips before he turned around and vanished into the bedroom without any further comment, softly closing the door behind himself.

Frowning, Dean stared at the wooden the door. Feelings of worry and irritation filled through the older boy's head at his brother's behavior, which was even stranger than any he'd shown for the past few months since hitting puberty.

Finally shrugging, Dean decided to let Sam do his homework by himself, hoping he'd be in a better mood afterwards, as he usually was. However, this teenager thing his brother had going on lately started to slightly piss him off.

He had always been the master in reading Sam, knowing what the boy was thinking and feeling, needing. Usually he was the one to help; the one Sam confided in and looked up to.

But since the twelve year old had reached puberty, his stubbornness and brat like behavior had truly tested his patience.. Virtual still a teen himself he realized that he was often close on the edge of exploding upon Sam's stubborn and brat-like behavior towards everyone but especially his big brother.

Of course Dean understood that he was the only valve Sam had, as acting up against John Winchester was not an option. Not only because John was rarely at home, but also because Sam knew better than to challenge their dad to use his omnipresent belt.

Counting the few dollars left, Dean shook his head slightly when he realized that they were running out of money to buy food with.

Bracing himself for the likely bad mood of his younger brother, he walked over to the bedroom and opened the door.

As expected, he found Sam sitting at the small desk. Dean noticed that the school books were still unopened, and instead of studying his little brother was chewing on his pencil with a distant look in his deep, green eyes.

Coughing loudly to get the teen's attention, the seventeen year old informed him casually,

"I gotta head to the bar down the street. We need some more cash and I heard there are many pool players just waiting to lose their money to me."

Seeing Sam turning around to face him, he added with a wink: "The waitress ain't too ugly either"

Shrugging, the younger boy mumbled a quick "whatever" before slowly opening one of his books.

Dean gritted his teeth, desperate not to let on how annoyed he was by his little brother. Eventually he continued with a harsh voice, unconsciously imitating his father.

"You know the rules, Sammy. Don't open the door to anyone, if necessary use the shotgun in the kitchen, it's loaded. I'll check the salt before I leave."

Again no response.

"Damn it, Sam, look at me when I talk to you!"

"You're not dad" the teenager finally hissed, sending his older brother a glare.

Startled by the flash of hurt and guilt Dean could detect in the young boy's eyes, he refrained from spitting out a smart-ass reply. Instead he just closed the door behind himself, checked the salt as he had said, and left the small motel bungalow, carefully locking the main door once he was outside.

Walking the short distance to the bar he couldn't stop thinking about the reason Sam was acting up so badly this time. Something or someone at school must've pissed him off; he didn't find any other explanation.

It took Dean 5 minutes to win the waitress' phone number and 2 hours to win close to 100 bucks, which he knew would be more than enough until John would return from his hunt.

Winking at the girl behind the counter, he sent her his patented cocky grin before stepping outside, inhaling the fresh night air.

It was only 9 pm, but the darkness had spread, and the street lamps only sparsely illuminated the street back to the motel they were staying at.

Desperately hoping his brat of brother had turned into normal Sam again, when he unlocked the door to their room, he called:

"Darling, I'm home!"

No response.

Dean felt the hair on his neck immediately rising, a wave of fear and worry washing over his body. Various pictures of a bleeding, battered and hurting Sam flashed up in his mind's eye. He swallowed hard, fighting to find his voice.

"Sam?"

The kitchen looked the same as when he had left, the shotgun still resting on its initial position, obviously unused.

With two quick steps, Dean crossed the room and burst into the bedroom, halting instantly when unexpected total darkness hit him.

Frantically searching for the light switch, Dean could feel sweat building on his hands, his throat closing when an all consuming fear entered his system.

Finally hitting the right spot, the light flickered on and floated through the room, blinding the seventeen-year old. Trying to adjust to the brightness he blinked rapidly, his heart pounding, all his senses sharpened and ready to react to anything evil his eyes would make out.

Dean felt as if an enormous weight had fallen off his shoulders when his eyes spotted the small figure of Sam lying in bed, covered by the sheets and sleeping peacefully. Closing his eyes for a second, he quickly sent a thank you heavenward before he released the breath he hadn't been aware of holding

Just then, Sam bolted upright and blinked at the harsh light. It took the younger boy a few seconds to completely wake up, but once he recognized Dean standing in the doorway, he quickly inspected his brother's panting figure, detecting the worry in his dark, hazel green eyes. Shooting Dean a fearful look he gasped:

"Dean?"

Silently cursing his father and his father's training, Dean wished that someday he could give his brother just one week of the sought after normality the younger boy was dreaming of.

"Don't worry, Sammy, everything's fine. Go back to sleep."

Dean's voice was soft and soothing, slight guilt traceable. He turned off the light and closed the door behind himself. Undressing quickly before crawling under the sheets, he hoped his presence would let Sam drift back to sleep easily.

* * *

Sitting at his desk in a classroom of the Hill Valley High School, Dean was not paying much attention to the teacher babbling on about Egyptian history. He was still wondering why Sammy had been acting so strange last night, how he could get his little brother to open up.

Sam's remark, pointing out that Dean was not his father, had stung, hurting Dean more than he'd admit. He had always seen himself as the responsible parent of his brother, as the one person who was always there for Sam, protecting him, taking care of him. But obviously Sammy was missing something he couldn't give him.

His train of thought was interrupted when the door to the classroom was opened and Mrs. Sullivan entered. Her cheeks were slightly red and she was panting.

"Dean Winchester?"

The 15 pairs of eyes who had curiously inspected the newly arrived guest quickly turned around and looked at the seventeen year old, most of them grinning. His reputation as bad boy followed him everywhere.

"It's Sam, I …"

"Sam?"

Dean bolted from his seat within a second, rushing over to the elderly teacher, grabbing her arm.

"Is he alright? What happened?"

"He's fine, don't worry. Could you come with me for a second?"

Following Mrs. Sullivan down the stairs and out of the building to the nearby school house of the Junior High School students, Dean's worry and confusion grew.

There had only been a few times when he was called out of class, but never because of his younger brother. After all, the little geek was the favorite of the teachers, regardless of which school they had been attending at that time.

When they finally reached the classroom, Dean inhaled quickly, not sure what he should expect to see.

Startled as only Sammy was present in the room, pacing the floor with fast, long steps, Dean relaxed. Obviously the problem was not supernatural.

"Sam? What's going on?"

Turning around at the sound of his brother's voice, Sam sent Dean a look that screamed help. His forehead was sweaty, his eyes red as if he had been crying, and his fingers nervously entwining each other.

Hopelessness, worry and fear were traceable in his eyes, cutting deep into Dean's heart.

Walking over to his brother, Dean reached out and grabbed the shoulders of the twelve year old, looking deep into his eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"No!"

The outburst of the usually rather quiet kid had Dean wincing, and he quickly checked the young boy over for any hint of injury.

"Are you hurt? What happened?"

"I… I… need dad!"

Confusion was now speaking from Dean's face and he sighed, not catching on what was going on in Sam's head.

"He ain't here, kiddo."

"I know! But I need him! I can't drop out of Junior High! I want to go to High School and College, Dean!"

Making eye contact with the teacher who was now sitting at her desk, Dean silently asked for an explanation to the behavior of his little brother.

"Nobody ever mentioned that you have to drop out of school, Sam." Mrs. Sullivan softly said, trying to get through to the agitated teen.

"But… he's not here! And you said it is crucial for you to discuss my grades with my parents today or I won't get a report card!"

Tears were now freely running down Sam's face, his eyes finding the ones of his brother, startling him with the clearly visible pain.

"I want to study, Dean. To go to school," he croaked.

Brushing away the tears from his little brother's face, Dean had to pull himself together. He didn't want to embarrass the teen in front of his teacher by hugging him tight.

Instead he ruffled Sam's hair, coughed loudly and turned around to the confused schoolteacher.

Sending her one of his smart-ass grins he had reserved for middle-aged woman, the Winchester charm dripped from his voice when he explained:

"Our dad is out of town and won't return until the end of the week. Could you make an exception and discuss the grades with me?"

"Well… you are not his legal guardian, let alone _legal_" the women emphasized.

Dean could feel his brother stiffen behind him, knowing that there was nothing more important in the world for Sammy than go to school and study.

Smiling with his best puppy dog expression Dean added: "Please?"

The teacher blushed instantly before hastily answering:

"Alright, alright, I guess we can make an exception. After all, it's not like we were worried about Sam's grades, he's our best student this year and we believe he will easily make it through Junior High."

* * *

Dean was the first to break the silence on their walk back home, sending his brother a shit-eating grin.

"So, princess, aren't you glad you won't be going to school here when this week is over? I don't think you would appreciate classes any longer knowing I was dating your teacher?"

"Fuck off."

The glare Sam shot his big brother was telling Dean another story, though. The emotions of thankfulness and pride were clearly visible in the teen's expression.

Quickly turning away his head when he knew he was caught, Sam took a few longer steps to be slightly ahead of his brother when he smirked:

"Enjoy your success with the older ladies, Dean; you won't be seeing any young chicks for a long time once Dad sees **_your_** report card!"

Sam heard the overacted gasping of Dean before he started to run, laughing loudly when the older boy chased him down the street.

"At least I know how to _get_ girls, bitch!"

"Just because of their pity for the challenged ones, jerk!"

Their laughing and smiles faded instantly when they reached the door to their bungalow. John Winchester was standing in the doorway, sternly glancing at his two boys.

Patting Sam's shoulder Dean whispered in his best sarcastic voice:

"Look, Daddy's here!"

Grinning, Sam answered under his breath:

"He would've never left the same impression on Mrs. Sullivan as you have."

Bursting out in laughter Dean didn't care about the reprimanding glare he received from his father. He knew what Sam meant. And he had to acknowledge, that his little brother was right.

**The End**


End file.
